Something New
by Dancing-StarryEyedDemigod
Summary: Meet Marcya Preston, daughter of Hermes. Although she knows this, she has yet to find out how extreme the life of a demigod really is. -Title may change again. OC PJatO. NO FLAMES PLEASE.-
1. I play keep away with my English paper

So, here's my second PJatO fanfiction, and it will rarely even use the main characters! How awesome!

**HINT:** If you don't like OC fanfictions, leave now. I'm telling you so that I don't get flamed.  
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Percy Jackson and the Olympians belongs to Rick Riordan.  
If I owned it, Thalia would have had a purple tree, Annabeth and Percy would've gotten together in the first book, Rachel would have had flipping insane-colored hair, and Luke's scar would be in the middle of his forehead (haha). But, none of these are true, so obviously, I do not own the story. Sad, isn't it? =(

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**Chapter one: I play keep away with my English paper**

_Hermes stared at the fountain. "I'll give you a list of my children. There's a boy in Wisconsin. Two girls in Los Angeles. A few others. Will you see that they get to camp?"_

_"I promise," I said. "And I won't forget."_

_-The Last Olympian_

My name is Marcya. Pronounced Mar-see-ya. I have shoulder-length, choppy brown hair. I am semi-dyslexic. I am a daughter of Hermes. I didn't know this at first, for I was living with my mom and going to a year-round boarding school. I turned 13 years old 1 week ago on May 22nd. That day was the most interesting day of my life. So far.

Would you like to hear the story?

Well, I woke up and checked my alarm clock to see that I was late for first-period English. I flipped out, threw on a blue long-sleeved shirt and some tan shorts, slipped my black flip flops onto my feet, grabbed my brown shoulder-bag, and sped out of my dorm room.

I arrived in my English teacher, Mrs. Bradling's, room at approximately 8:52:41 AM. Don't ask me how I knew the exact time, I just did. I've always known the exact time. Every minute of everyday. Anyway, I fast-walked into the classroom and quickly took my seat, dropping my bag on the ground next to me. I placed one hand over the other on the table as Mrs. Bradling turned around to face the class. She quickly narrowed her eyes at me.

"Well, Miss Preston, glad to see you could join us after, oh... 45 minutes of class," she said to me.

"53, Mrs. Bradling," I corrected her. "And I've been here the whole time"

My teacher rolled her eyes. "I'm sure," she said. She turned back around to her desk and grabbed a stack of papers. I let out the breath I'd been holding in, because I was officially off the hook.

Or not.

"Now, Miss Preston," Mrs. Bradling began, turning her steely gaze on me. I panicked as she dropped the stack of papers on my desk and they made a loud _thump_, making some of the kids snicker or say "ooh, burn."

I gulped. "Umm?" I said intelligently.

"I want you to pass those out," she said with a glint in her eye.

"That's it?" I said with relief.

"Yes," she replied, turning on her heel and walking to her chair. I cheerfully picked up the papers and began passing them out.

"Hmm," my friend Dylan whispered when I handed him a paper. "Not as good as what you said last week"

I guess I should explain. I'm usually in trouble. I pull pranks with my friends Dylan and Anastasia almost every day. The teachers would hate me for it, aside from the fact that I get A's on almost every assignment. Also, I'm really cute. I can smile my way out of anything.

I leaned closer to him. "Oh yeah?" I whispered back. "You should try coming up with something as good as last week's when she's glaring at you with her hawk eyes."

Dylan smiled and turned back to his work. I finished handing out the papers and took my seat. I pulled out a pencil and started to write.

I was finished with the assignment within minutes. I then pulled out a piece of worn paper and began studying it. This paper was a map of the entire campus, which Dylan and I used to plan out pranks on. I took my pencil and drew a new prank route, folded it up, and handed it to Grace to pass to Dylan.

"You know," she scoffed. "I get pretty tired of passing notes to your boyfriend."

I blushed. "He's not my boyfriend," I said quietly.

"But you L.O.V.E him," she said, batting her eyelashes mockingly.

"I do _not_," I defended myself.

Grace smirked then fluffed her curly blonde hair as she turned to Dylan.

"Here, Dyl," she said coyly as she handed him the map. "It's from Marcya." She touched his arm and he choked up.

"Oh, uh," Dylan stammered. "T-Thanks."

I could have punched Grace in the face (haha, that rhymed). She turned back around, took one look at my angry face, and whispered, "Told you so,"

I rolled my eyes. Grace just did things like that to bug me, but everyone knew Dylan had a crush on her. And she used it to her advantage.

Mrs. Bradling called for the assignments and I stood up and walked towards her, the paper in my hand.

The next thing I knew, the paper was gone.

"What the...?" I said, looking around on the floor for my dropped paper. Then something tickled my ear. I looked up to see my English paper floating above my head. I raised an eyebrow and reached for it, but it moved out of my grasp. I cocked my head and reached for it again, but it scooted away quickly.

No one else was paying me any attention, so I pulled out some kid's chair, stood on it, and jumped for the paper. It dodged me as I was in the air, and I crashed to the floor, my hands paperless.

Okay, now I was annoyed. I was _not _going to chase my English paper around my classroom, with all my classmates watching. I huffed and turned away, determined to ignore the paper, but something smacked me in the back of the head. I swatted at the flying worksheet, but it kept moving around.

Students started to stare. Mrs. Bradling stepped forward.

"Miss Preston," she snapped. "I don't know what kind of interpretive dance you are doing, but you are the only one who hasn't turned in your assignment."

"But, Mrs. Bradling," I said. "My assignment's _running away_ from me."

"No, it's not," she replied. "It's laying right there on the table. Pick it up and bring it to me."

I gaped at her then turned to the side. Sure enough, there was my paper, lying innocently on the table. I glared and snatched it up, bringing to Mrs. Bradling. She took it and placed it on the bottom of the stack. I looked up, only to see a glowing picture of two snakes entwined around a winged staff hovering two feet above my teacher's desk.

I looked around. Why didn't anyone else see this?

Before I could figure out what it was, Mrs. Bradling had stashed the papers away and was shooing me back to my seat.

I sat down next to Grace and stared blankly at the wood table, waiting for the bell to ring. When it finally did, I grabbed my bag and walked in a daze to my next class.

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	2. A myth and I talk about my father

I wrote this story a long time ago. It's not very good, and my writings not as good as it is now, but I figured I'd post it anyway. I think I wrote four chapters. I might finish it if you'd like me to.

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**Chapter two: A mythological creature and I talk about my father**

When I arrived at my second period classroom, Mr. Bengal immediately told me to go to the principal. People were look at me strangely as I turned around and walked the familiar path to the office.

_What did I do now? _I thought as I pushed open a huge glass door. I started for the principal's desk, but stopped when I noticed my mom waiting patiently in a chair. She stood up when she saw me.

"What did it look like?" she asked me quietly. I stared at her.

"...What?" I asked.

"The cacadeus!" Was her hushed response.

Somehow, I knew she was talking about the glowing staff I saw earlier this morning. I explained to her what it looked like, and she listened intently, as if her life depended on it. Then she sighed.

"He told me he was going to claim you today, but I didn't expect it to be so... subtle. You father has never been subtle," she said.

"What on Earth are you talking about, mom?" I asked.

"We need to talk."

**... ... ... ...  
**

My mom and I drove in silence to our favorite coffee shop. She lived 2 blocks away from the boarding school, so we hung out on weekends. Usually it was here.

We ordered the usual (a vanilla bean frappuchino for me, a caramel latte for her) and sat down at a secluded table.

"Marcya," she began in a hushed tone. "We need to talk about your father."

"What about him?" I asked. "He's dead. He died before I was born."

"No," my mother said. "He didn't."

I stared at her, confused. "Then why didn't he visit, huh?" I said in a stiff voice. "Why didn't he ever pay child support or help you raise me?"

"He did, Marcya. He just couldn't live with us. We decided it would be dangerous if you knew him, but now that he was forced to claim you..."

"What do you mean? Why couldn't he come live with us?"

A waitress that appeared out of nowhere coughed nervously.

"I hate to interrupt your mother-daughter conversation," she said politely. "But here's your order." She rushed off. My mother sighed and placed her hands around her coffee cup. I clenched my teeth and my fists.

"I've wanted a father my whole life," I said angrily. "Why couldn't he live with us?"

"Because he lives on Mount Olympus," my mom said quickly, shocking me out of my anger. "He couldn't live with us or raise you because he's immortal. A Greek god."

I stared at her, still shocked.

"Please don't be mad, Marcie. Hermes loved us both very much. He always did, he loves everyone, but-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I said. "Back up. My father is the Greek god Hermes? The trickster? The messenger guy? The one-man welcoming committee?"

My mom nodded.

"Well, that explains a lot."

"Not enough, though," my mom said, leaning closer to me. "What else have you learned?"

"Nothing. We just started learning about the Greeks."

"No, not in class, Marcya. Not myths. The real stuff. The things you're going to go through."

"What?"

"You're a half-blood, Marcie. Part god, part human."

It didn't register in my brain until just then. My father was a Greek god. That would make me part Greek god. Part Hermes. Did that mean I had magic powers, or whatever?

"What happens now?" I asked after a few moments of awkward silence.

"Now, you go back to class," my mom sighed, finishing off her latte as my frappuchino sat, untouched, and melted.

I stayed sitting as my mom stood and threw her cup away. She waited for me to follow her to the car, but I didn't move an inch.

"How long have you known?" I asked, hurt.

My mom hung her head.

"Your whole life."

**... ... ... ...**

I got back to my dorm room in time for 3rd period, but I didn't feel like going. I laid down on the top bunk and stared at the ceiling. I spaced out for 26 minutes, and then I heard someone approach my door and knock softly. I assumed it was a teacher or assistant principal.

"I'm not coming to class," I said, not removing my eyes from the ceiling. There were soft footsteps from the doorway to my bed.

"Miss Prrreston?" a young male voice said. It was gruff and sounded vaguely goat-ish, and I'd never heard it before. I sat up quickly, hitting my head on the ceiling.

That hurt. _A lot_.

I rubbed my skull and glanced over to where the voice had come from. Standing there was a boy of about 17, even though his goatee and unruly curly hair made him seem much older. He wore a giant hat, baggy jeans, and oversized tennis-shoes.

"Umm, yes?" I said.

"I don't really know how to say this," the boy stammered. "But, um... have you ever been attacked by any monsters?"

"Do flying English papers count?"

"It depends," he said, blowing a brownish-red curl out of his face. "Who's your godly parent?"

"Hermes," I said blankly.

"Then no, that's not a monster."

"How do you know?"

"Well, you don't smell like monsters. How long ago were you claimed?"

"One hour and 40 minutes ago"

"That explains why you don't have a scent yet. Hmm. After the paper attacked you, did you see the mark of your father?"

"I think. If that's what the stick and the snakes mean."

"Then Hermes was playing a prank on you. I'm guessing no one noticed the flying paper?"

"Nope."

"Magic," Grover said, nodding like he was confirming his deepest fear.

"Awesome."

"I'm Grover, by the way," he said, holding his hand up for me to shake. I reached down to him from my bunk and shook it. The second our hands connected, I heard a low growl. All the color drained from Grover's face.

"Oh, no. I was afraid of this. I knew it was following me," he whimpered.

"What?" I asked. "What followed you?"

Grover didn't respond, he simply reached down into his bag and threw me a bow and some arrows.

"Welcome to Camp Half-Blood training," he said. "It's time for your first monster attack."

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Yeah, this is an old story.

Review? :D


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